Lucky
by Primrue
Summary: A woman enters his shop, and Neville is thankful that she doesn't want to purchase roses. One-shot, Nevmione Flower-shop AU. Rated T for language.


Lucky

* * *

~o0o~

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"Oh, thank you so much, dear," said Mrs. Figg and accepted the bouquet. "It's Snowbell's birthday today, you see, and it would be wrong to not pay her grave a visit."

Neville smiled. "Of course. She's lucky to have such a devoted owner."

Mrs. Figg waved her hand at him, but beamed all the same.

As soon as the old lady had payed and left the store, Neville sighed. His only customer this week and the flowers were being given to a deceased cat.

Although, he should hardly complain.

After having purchased the flower shop from his old mentor, Pomona Sprout, he had sadly come to realize that it was rare people bought flowers any more. The only day with anything resembling action was Valentine's Day; desperate partners rushing last minute to buy something for their significant other. And even then it was mostly red roses. Boring. Done. Nothing to stimulate his creativity.

He was rearranging the Asters for the fifth time when the doorbell chimed.

Neville hurried to the stand behind the counter, just as the newly arrived woman stormed over and slammed a handful of crumpled bills on the surface.

"Hi, how may I help you today—"

"I need the biggest bouquet you can make!" she interrupted, and Neville blinked.

"All right," he said, "I have a brochure with a wide selection of different arrangements. Unless you have something specific in mind . . ."

At this, Neville was surprised to find the woman growing a wicked grin.

"Oh, I have something in mind all right," she said, "I want anything you can think of that means 'fuck you'."

"F-fuck you?"

"Yes. Is there a flower for that?"

"Well, not really, but there are others that would suggest the same—"

"Brilliant, I'll take all of them," she said, patting the bills she'd left in front of him for emphasis.

Neville didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he could use the money, but on the other . . . he had always wanted his flowers to bring joy to people, or comfort in case of a loved one lost, but most of all he wanted them to make people smile.

He looked at the woman.

 _Not that type of smile, though._

He went over his options again.

Perhaps, this was a blessing in disguise. Hadn't he just complained about his abilities being laid to waste? What was this if not another challenge? An opportunity for him to broaden his horizons.

The woman was now impatiently brushing her curly hair behind her ear, and he knew he had but seconds to decide.

"Tell me about the person you want to send the flowers to."

She startled, not having expected the question. "Don't you just have to, you know, look at the meanings behind the flowers or something?"

Neville gave her a polite smile. "Yes, but it would help if I knew what type of person they are. It would help me figure out what kind of flowers to choose from. If say, you were disappointed in them, I would include yellow Carnations, but if you wanted for him to watch his back I would use Begonias."

Understanding dawned on her face and she hummed. "You seem to know your thing, glad I came here."

For the first time, Neville grew a genuine smile. "So?"

"Oh! Yes, well . . . He's this twat of a co-worker I have. He won't stop asking me out, despite turning him down on several occasions. Last week he even went as far as to send me roses."

Neville inwardly sighed at the lack originality.

"I threw them in the trashcan, made sure it was right in front of him," she continued, "but he still won't take the hint. He thinks he's this gift to women, and it's not just me he does this to, you know. Shame about the flowers, but I could barely look at them without my stomach turning. And I want him to feel as bad as I did looking at the flowers."

She looked at Neville. "Does that help you?"

He nodded. "I think I know what message to send."

He heard her mumble that she thought she'd already explicably told him with the 'fuck you', and he laughed. Judging by the way she blushed, he suspected she hadn't known she'd spoken aloud.

"How long will it take?" she asked, and Neville couldn't help but find the way she twirled her locks embarrassedly between her fingers to be anything but endearing.

"I could do it for you right now if you have the time. That way you'll know what to ask for the next time you need to send someone angry flowers," he added, and dared a wink.

It payed off.

She immediately turned red, but the way she laughed told him that it was a good kind, and not the kind of red she'd looked when she had fumed into the store a few minutes earlier.

He proceeded to gather a bundle of flowers, explaining the meaning behind them as he went. He noticed that the woman was an eager listener, soaking up all the knowledge he had to offer. Not many of his friends appreciated him prattling on about plants and what sort of environment fit them best, and not that he minded, but . . . _she_ actually seemed interested. Strange.

When he'd composed a bouquet as full of a 'fuck you' air as he could muster, he was almost sad to tell her he was done.

"I know I don't know much about flowers, but I can actually feel the animosity," she said, looking pleased. "Thank you."

Neville smiled. "If you're happy with it, I'll just go ahead and deliver it to your work tomorrow."

"Can't wait. I suppose I might see you there."

"Yeah."

She halfway turned away and told him goodbye, and exited the shop.

Neville watched her pass the window and when she was entirely out of sight he suddenly wondered if she'd forgotten to pay. He then remembered the paper bills lying by the register; all crumpled and cold.

A week passed after that.

To his disappointment, he had not seen her when he went to her work place to drop off the flowers. He had had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting the mister McLaggen they were intended for. He snorted at the memory. The man had indeed deserved it.

"—is this it? Well, go on, then."

Neville turned his head up as the muffled voices grew louder outside.

"Honestly, is this necessary—"

"Shut it, and go!"

Then, that all too familiar doorbell sounded and he was looking at her again. Her hair was its curly self that he remembered, but she was wearing a blue dress now; a big difference from the black pantsuit she'd been in last time. Behind her stood a redhaired woman he didn't recognize, but she appeared to be satisfied waiting outside.

The brunette looked back at her friend and then at him again. "Hi."

"Hello," Neville answered. "What can I do for you today?"

She took a deep breath and, with steady steps, walked up to him. "Well, I want my money back."

He had not expected that. "What?"

"Your flowers didn't work."

"Oh."

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms and growing bolder by the second. She must be comfortable scolding people. "And since they didn't work, I've come to bring forth my dissatisfaction as a customer."

Neville glanced at the hopeful and curious stare of the freckled woman outside, then back at the brunette in front of him wearing a dress, heels and . . . lipstick?

"Well," he started, "I can't give you your money back. But do you suppose a date would do?"

She bit her lip, suppressing excitement, before saying, "That could work."

"Great. I'll pick you up at eight on Friday?"

"All right."

They decided on where to meet, and exchanged phone numbers; he gave his business card and she gave hers.

"So, I'll see you Friday . . . Neville."

He grinned.

"And I'll see you . . ." He looked at the card.

~ Hermione J. Granger. Attorney At Law. ~

 _Hermione . . ._

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her brown eyes worried.

He smiled. "Nothing at all. I was just thinking how lucky I am that you share the name of my favourite type of rose."

* * *

~o0o~

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A/N: My first Nevmione! I hope you enjoyed it and please leave your thoughts on it!

/Primrue


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